


Two Useless Halves do not have to become a Useless Whole

by CJaneway



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Odin (Marvel), Angst, Arranged Marriage, Bad Parenting, Evil Odin (Marvel), FRIGGA IS NOT A GOOD MOTHER TO THOR, Fertility god Thor, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Intersex Jotunn (Marvel), Intersex Loki (Marvel), Jotunn Loki (Marvel), Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Laufey (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, ODIN IS A HORRIBLE RAPIST, ODIN IS SUCH AN ASSHOLE IN THIS ONE, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Odin (Marvel)'s Bad Parenting, Penis In Vagina Sex, Penis Size, Pre-Canon, Pre-Thor (2011), Revenge, Shit-Show Deluxe, Size Difference, Size Kink, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Thor (Marvel) Feels, Thor (Marvel) is Not Stupid, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, bad laufey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-08-04 02:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16338296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CJaneway/pseuds/CJaneway
Summary: Attention: The Rape/Non-con tag is there because it is discussed a lot, not because any of it explicitly happens in the story.Summary:“Thor, my son.” Odin greeted him as the thundergod knelt, which made Thor reel – Odin, like his other siblings, hardly ever acknowledged their relation in deference to keeping the peace. Instead of happiness, a feeling of dread settled across Thor’s shoulders.“Yes, Allfather?” Thor replied as he stared at his fathers’ boots, pointedly avoiding Odin’s good eye. The last time Thor had been called forth like this, he’d broken Balder’s balefully beautiful nose in a spar and the beastly brood of the Allmother had called for his blood.“I have a task of the utmost importance for you.” Odin continued, not acknowledging that Thor had avoided calling him father.“Jotunnheimen, led by Laufey and his beastly wife Farbauti, have offered peace – and their youngest runt son in marriage. As we are not offered the best of the best, we will not give the best of the best – and as such, I have decided that you will marry the Jotunn prince on the honor of Aasgard.”TAGS SUBJECT TO CHANGE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> OH BOY I don't know when to quit. So, my dumb ass got to reading some REALLY great fanfiction and I got inspired, so there's that. This is basically the unholy mix of all the bad tropes forever. Get ready to cry with me. Also, Balder the Beautiful is an asshole in this one... actually, almost everyone from Aasgard except Thor is an asshole in this one. Aasgard should change their name to Assgard. I just wanted everything to hurt - so here you go. Hurt. Pain. Have at it. 
> 
> Also: Inspired by Peace Through Strength by Catchclaw! I am not tagging it, however, as I think this work can be problematic for a lot of people and since the "Inspired by" section doesn't offer the archive warning's I'd just put it here so people can see where the inspiration is from without people stumbling into this hellhole unprepared.
> 
> EDITS: I did a small revision with some word changes and stuff, all of them suggested by Sigynthefaithful - thank you for that!

The denizens of Aasgard looked up to the royal family, vast as it may be, and saw a cohesive, well balanced ruling force with a great heir to the throne, and a score of spares that could be wedded away to secure alliances to other realms. Thor, bastard son of a union between Jord and Odin, knew that the image they presented to the common folk was gilded shit at the best of times. Tyr, Odin’s oldest, was also a bastard, but he was exempt to any and all scorn except for a nasty rumor that he was instead the spawn of Hymir – he was heir to the throne, a haughty bastard who was both the god of war and justice, which was an entirely self-serving combination. Thor, Thor’s twin, Melli, and Odin’s two other bastards; Vidar, by Grid, and Vali, by Rindr, were all accepted as royalty, but distant and unimportant – Frigga had seen to that. Frigga the beautiful, kind, loving allmother was a great mother to all the realms, a calming influence on Odin, and absolutely enraged at the thought of her husbands’ bastards, to whom she was no mother at all. As it was hard for even the allmother to scold the allfather for his wily ways, her rage fell squarely on the shoulders of his bastards. The irony of the entire ordeal was that Frigga was the goddess of love, destiny, family, house and home – Thor guessed their definitions of family differed, as she never seemed to suffer an attack of conscience. Thor sometimes wondered if her weaves of faith ever showed someone bashing her skull in because they finally had enough of Frigga’s shit – Thor doubted it, as even he wasn’t stupid enough to plot against the Allmother.  

One by one they had left. Melli had abandoned Thor, and the vile courts of Aasgard as soon as he had the skill to track down their mother – Jord never stayed in one place for long, and it took a tracker of excellent skill to find a moving earth goddess. Vidar had only stayed half the time with the Aesir courts, and the rest of the time with his Jotunn mother, and when he came of age he took the Bifrost to Jotunnheimen to never return. Vali had taken an apprenticeship with a smith in Svartalfheimr, packed his bags, taken a legendary dump on the throne room floor before he left, and was never seen again. Thor often speculated that the Svartalfar smith had demanded it as a form of proof that Vali had asked for an apprenticeship honestly, without orders from the Allfather. That left Thor, the last of the bastards, as Tyr never counted in that category despite his unknown mother, and the rest of the royal children, Bragi, Hod, Hermond, and Balder, who were all of Frigga, so they were actually treated like family members.

Thor sometimes wished he’d followed his dear twin, Melli, when he searched for their mother, but he dreamed of becoming a renowned warrior, and travelling in obscurity with an earth goddess didn’t a renowned warrior make. Of course, his youthful dream had died a sour death, and now he had no ways of contacting his twin, his mother, and no will to ask his, dare he say it, father for any directions. Odin would probably take it as a slight upon his person, much like he had when Melli, Vidar, and Vali left, and without anyone there to mitigate his anger, as Frigga was irreverent towards Thor and all of his being, Thor feared for his own safety. Tyr offered no assistance to his half-brother, and the rest of Frigga’s spawn were willfully ignorant to the daily slights that were heaped on Thor’s shoulders.

Where Tyr was taller than most Aesir by two heads, broad across the shoulders, yet finely boned with a regal bearing, Frigga’s brood were all the perfect mix between their mother and father; ethereal beauties who got by on their looks alone, with Odin’s presence and skill in seiðr  – Thor hadn’t registered enough personality between them for the lot of them to count as a single person, they simply dazzled people with their smiles and let vapid words spill from their mouths like sour wine. Thor, however, was also a perfect mix between his mother and Odin, yet the results, as Jord was indeed a giant, were starkly different. Where Frigga’s brood were light as air, and glided through rooms like living art, moving both the physical and metaphysical senses, Thor was a lumbering rock, he felt. Rough hewn features, wild blond hair, a thick beard, and tree trunks for arms and legs, with a torso that would put most barrels to shame. As a warrior, his looks mattered little, and in the ring, he was the best of the best, better than Tyr, better than everyone - even Frigga’s brood, each and every one of them, fell woefully short there, yet Thor felt ignored in every other aspect of his life.

When grand feasts were held, he would be seated with major nobles, and not the family, when inter-realm greetings were done, he was always last in line, and his bravest accomplishments as both a warrior and a hunter were overshadowed by gossip about the beautiful spawn of Frigga, who all enchanted the nobles, and the people, with effortless grace and a severe lack of skill in anything beyond twisting words and battling tongues. Where Tyr, and the rest of Thor’s half-siblings were invited to preside over the court, it was almost a foregone conclusion that Thor had no interest in the workings of Aasgard, a big brute like him would have no finesse and no wit to truly do a good job, at least those were the assumptions. What Tyr, Bragi, Hod, Hermond and Balder all forgot was that Aasgard was more than it’s ruling family and the noble sycophants that nipped at their heels – Aasgard was a realm filled with people from all walks of life, and Thor had become an excellent friend to many of them, and a good judge of character. Of course, this was not reason enough to let the god of thunder, strength, and fertility to sit in on council meetings and give his opinion; what ruler would, indeed, listen to the people whom his decisions affected, it was an absurd notion.

Thor was currently taking his considerable anger out on a handful of sparring partners, who fought back valiantly, despite the terror in their eyes, as his thoughts had turned his mood into a thundercloud befitting the godly powers he possessed. He was using a short sword and a buckler, as he had found no weapon, yet, that suited him enough for him to pursue a specialization. He still out-fought the lot, with strong parries, quick jabs, deft slices, and enough rage to power an army through a fortnight of battle. He was about to deliver a mock-killing-blow to the last of his opponents when a voice from the sidelines caught his attention – it was Hod, a boot licking warrior who excelled more at greasing backs than fighting beast, despite his reputation.

“Thor!” Hod called, he stood at the edge of the sparring ring clad in his councilman garb, opulent cape flapping in the wind, a deep contrast to the mud-covered warriors. “The allfather wants to speak with you.” He snapped, before turning on his heel and leaving for places unknown. Hod, like the rest of his full siblings and Tyr, never called Odin Thor’s father, or Thor himself brother as it would enrage Frigga to the point of Ragnarok. Thor looked at his sparring partners, shrugged, and went to wash up – the allfather was more lenient with Thor than his rabid wife, but not lenient enough to speak to a mud-covered warrior who had been personally summoned.

He had worn very little in the sparring ring, so all he had to do was wipe himself down, change pants, boots, and put on a clean tunic. It saved him precious time, as Odin was already seated on his throne when Thor arrived through the doors of the throne room, which was suspiciously empty – Thor never met his father anywhere else. The allfather cut an impressive figure, dressed to the Norns in ceremonial armor, with his fabled spear in his right hand, and seated on the throne with complete ease – Thor never felt unsettled when he saw him, beyond the faint stirrings of injustice in the pit of his stomach.

“Thor, my son.” Odin greeted him as the thundergod knelt, which made Thor reel – Odin, like his other siblings, hardly ever acknowledged their relation in deference to keeping the peace. Instead of happiness, a feeling of dread settled across Thor’s shoulders.

“Yes, Allfather?” Thor replied as he stared at his fathers’ boots, pointedly avoiding Odin’s good eye. The last time Thor had been called forth like this, he’d broken Balder’s balefully beautiful nose in a spar and the beastly brood of the Allmother had called for his blood.

“I have a task of the utmost importance for you.” Odin continued, not acknowledging that Thor had avoided calling him father. “Jotunnheimen, led by Laufey and his grotesque wife Farbauti, have offered peace – and their youngest runt son in marriage. As we are not offered the best of the best, we will not give the best of the best – and as such, I have decided that you will marry the Jotunn prince on the honor of Aasgard.” Odin declared using his spear as a gavel, thumping it on the throne room floor.    

Thor was suddenly glad he was kneeling, as it felt like the air had been punched out from his lungs. The allfather had not only called him worthless but betrothed him to a Jotunn runt without a care – ruining Thor’s plans and his long-term aspirations for winning the fair and strong Lady Sif’s hand in marriage when her raging father let up his grip. Yet Thor couldn’t force a word out, a fine meld of shock and fear of his own mouth and temper kept his words at bay.

“Are you happy, son, that you are finally of use to Aasgard?” Odin said, benevolently, as if he was doing Thor a favor. He stared down at Thor with a genuine smile on his face, as if the great Allfather was actually proud of the bullshit he had just shoveled Thor’s way without a care.

“I am conflicted.” Thor ground out, his legendary temper was chewing at his guts, waiting to burst forth at the slightest provocation. He was quaking where he knelt, beads of sweat appearing at his temples as the strain of holding himself back from trying to strangle the Allfather, and as such, end his own life at the hands of the palace guards or Odin himself – it was a hard decision between living to marry a Jotun runt Odin had foisted him off on with dismissive and cruel words, and dying a honorless man.

“Loki, the name of the runt, is quite pretty for a Jotunn – if it weren’t for the rage of Frigga, I might have tumbled him a few times before wedding him to you.” Odin mused out loud, as if Thor was purring at the declaration like a petted kitten instead of trembling with rage, as was the reality.

“Some of them have two sexes, you know, Loki being one of them.” Odin looked reminiscent of sorts, and Thor could, disgustedly, figure out why, as both Jord, Thor’s own mother, and Rindr, Vali’s mother, lived their lives as females, while they possessed both sets of equipment, so to speak – Thor had learned when Odin had, drunkenly, explained to one of his Einherjar, that tumbling a two-sexed Jotunn before marriage was good for the soul. Odin had ample experiences with a wide variety of partners, Thor knew this from his siblings, which was an obvious sign, but also due to the many enraged rants he’d overheard of parents complaining about their sons and daughters being defiled and reviled by the Allfather like toys.

“You should be happy, son,” Odin continued, because kicking people who were down was the Allfather’s specialty. “I’ve planted my seeds around Aasgard well enough that I’m helping you avoid fucking a half-sibling or two.” The Allfather chuckled at his own joke as Thor felt bile burn his throat at the callousness of the sworn protector of the nine realms. Siblings or half-siblings marrying were not common, but not unheard of either, and the thought itself, while foreign, was not enough to cause Thor to gag, yet Odin and his disgusting attitude was enough to make Thor dry heave, almost loosing his balance as he still knelt.

Odin got up from the throne and walked off the dais, and as he passed Thor, who was still struggling with his gag reflex, he said his last words; “You’re dismissed.”


	2. How-I-Met-My-Husband

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor gets to meet Loki for the first time, and it's absolutely clear that none of them want this at all. They argue, Odin is, as established, a disgusting lech who should have been castrated and forced to eat the mulched cuttings of his own flesh to avoid re-attachment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's that. I hate my Odin in this one. 
> 
> I hate a lot of people in this one. Even Thor in this chapter... he's being a hurtful bastard, I can understand why, but - like, stop making me write this way! Egads. Why did I start this? IDEK like.... I hate myself. Thoroughly.

 The months leading up to Thor’s sham wedding were excruciating. Frigga had been unbearably smug, and her horde of disgusting ducklings shared in their mother’s glee – the warrior son of Odin brought low by his own father, married to a Jotun runt in a half-hearted bid for peace with Jotunnheimen, where none put forth their best for the match. The realm cheered, but the royal family and the nobles knew exactly what was going on; both Laufey and Odin were getting rid of unwanted spawn in a respectable fashion. Balder the Beautiful brat had taken to belting love ballads whenever Thor came near, and Thor was sorely tempted to re-arrange his enchanting face to resemble a dried cow-patty after a stampede. Thor had always thought that Odin, thought distant, at least valued him as a fighter, and a protector of Aasgard, yet his latest decree had blown even that to dust. Thor felt hollow, empty – he’d always been rough like a tree trunk, now it felt like he was rotting from the inside and soon only the bark would be left.

The ceremony would be small, and attendance would be optional, except for the witnesses, and those who wished to accompany those to be wed. It was nothing like the grand love match Thor had envisioned in his youth, and the ceremony was, despite him being a bastard, far below his station – commoners had more kerfuffle around their weddings than this. Instead of handfasting them at all, Thor snorted, they could have just locked him up with Loki in a cage and watch the two husbands fornicate like animals before parading them around like the puppets of Odin they were becoming. He felt sorry for Loki as well – being married away to the reviled bastard son of Odin, who looked like he was made of bark and brute, with a reputation for violence and thunder – Thor had fully acquainted himself with the prevailing public opinion of himself; a good warrior and nothing else. No one ever spoke of, or sought, his fertility powers, or his skill at building, healing, and restoring – all they wanted was the young brute with the power of thunder with the blood of the Allfather. Thor calmed himself down by imagining torture upon all the blood relations he had in Aasgard city, plus his half-siblings, who had been unbearable enough to where Thor took a particular joy in trying to imagine how their screams would sound when he would flay them alive, stripping their skin inch by inch. If people knew exactly what he was thinking, the prevailing public opinion wouldn’t change much, that Thor was sure of, yet he found it very hard to care at all.

Three days before the ceremony, the preparations for the wedding had barely started – Odin had ordered some simple decorations, probably for posterity, this was nothing special after all, and a small feast had been ordered from the kitchen, enough to feed a hundred people, in case a few commoners wandered in, as most nobles refused to attend lest they become social pariah. Thor sighed and realized that if Odin could find someone else with enough power to wed them, which he couldn’t, his father would probably not have showed up either.

Melli, Vidar, and Vali had been in contact, strangely enough, as Thor hadn’t heard from them since they left, but each of them had managed to send letters to the half-prince, as had become Thor’s new moniker amongst the nobles, without them becoming lost, or the seals broken. Thor smiled when the messenger who had delivered all three of them proudly displayed the unbroken wax-seals, all with the personal sigils of his brothers – his true brothers. Melli had wished Thor well and told him of the harshness of living with their mother, who was mostly unfit to be a parent, but served as an excellent travelling companion if one ignored the lack of familial bonds; Melli still offered Thor the chance to travel with them. Vidar hinted that his mother’s long-house had plenty of room, and Vali had cussed out his smith-master in his letter and offered to share an apprentice-cot with Thor in case he needed it. Thor wished, deeply, that he could accept, but the Allfather had turned his cunning gaze on his warrior bastard, and there it would remain, until he was chained to Loki, and Loki to him, in a miserable marriage for both of them, while their vile fathers, who sold the fruit of their loins for pittance, laughed and drank together before trying to stab each other in the back.  

Thor sometimes wondered in the night, when even a day of tearing through the sparring yard like an unhinged monster couldn’t quell his unrest and rage, what Loki would be like and if they would get along at all. Thor felt foolish for having allowed himself to believe that he would be able to marry for love, or at least, like, but Thor was, deep within, a soft-hearted man, and he had let his own heart trick itself with fancy stories of love, devotion, and passion. He remembered the times Frigga would gather the entire brood to read romantic ballads in the evening – Hod, Bragi, and Hermond would always sit at her feet, while Bragi would be in her lap, the favorite, as Tyr stood at her right hand and presided over the reading like a guardian, as Thor and the rest of his brothers were forced to sit in a corner so Frigga could pretend they didn’t exist – their attendance had been made mandatory by Odin as it would look off if one set of children were read to and the others were not. The rumor was that Thor, Vidar, Vali and Melli were all rambunctious and would interrupt if they sat any closer, but that was more slander and lies from the throne – a shallow justification for the blatant favoritism of the Allmother. Despite all this; Thor remembered enjoying those times, because Frigga’s voice was always transformed from the chilled tones she used with Thor, to the warmth the Allmother was renowned for when she spoke to anyone else. Thor loved pretending, then, briefly, that he had a loving mother as well, and that he was loved, cherished, and had a modicum of protection. The good memories associated with the stories lead to the thundergod developing a carefully guarded, deeply romantic heart, filled with courtships, and gifts, and stolen kisses under a midnight moon – not political sham marriages concocted by two old puss-filled shit-stains to pretend to mend their ways and spite their children in one go.

The day of the wedding arrived, and a single attendant came for Thor, who slept in the barracks amongst the other warriors. The nameless attendant briskly dressed Thor in what passed for moderate finery and shuffled him towards the castle like a disobedient dog. Thor ached for what he was missing; the joy and anticipation of joining one’s life to another, the butterflies in one’s stomach, the joy of presenting your love to family and friends. Thor could count on a single hand the people that had told him, directly, that they wanted to come, yet all of them had also said they wouldn’t out of fear that the Allfather’s gaze might land upon them, Thor understood it, yet he resented them all the same; a warriors wedding was a joyous occasion, a royal wedding even more so, yet Thor was being denied all of it, while still being used as a political pawn, a small non-entity in an empty gesture between warring nations. As he was led into the main hall, which was only slightly more decorated than usual; it looked like it could have been a wedding, or maybe Frigga had one of her decorating fits. Thor imagined the royal weddings of old in his mind’s eye – entire realms given up to ceaseless celebrations, with an infectious joy permeating the air, and glory upon the wedded couple; and then he saw the paltry offerings given to him, even with his blood, and what he had given Aasgard, this was what he amounted to. This was an every-other-day at the castle, it seemed, as scribes ran their daily duties, and the maids were carrying linens as if nothing was happening. Thor guessed that he was lucky that his marriage wasn’t one item in a line of daily petitioners and that the hall itself was empty.

Odin strode down the carpeted isle, the same carpet as always, Thor noted, and ended up in front of the thundergod and reached out to clap Thor’s shoulder in a gesture reserved for friends and family, not estranged fathers who whored out their affection starved sons for shit and poisoned air.   
“Your new spouse is in the ante chamber, go greet him while we make the last preparations.” Odin leered, while assuring that Thor didn’t get a word in edgewise.  “Don’t fuck that pretty cunt before we slap a ring on it.” Was the parting shot, and it made Thor’s skin crawl. He almost wished to burn the tunic he was wearing just because Odin had touched it. He did, however, go to the antechamber anyway.

Before Thor had even closed the door to the antechamber a sharp voice attacked him.

“You couldn’t wait to fuck me until after the ceremony, you bloody barbarian?” The words were sneered with such visceral hatred that Thor almost felt like he had to physically recoil from the verbal projectiles. “First, I am mocked, belittled, outcast, for being Laufey’s lastborn, and Laufey’s disgusting little runt, and now I am robbed of a mating bond and a mating ceremony by our vile fathers, and now I won’t even get an Aasgardian ceremony before I am to spread my legs for one of you beasts?” Before him stood the Jotunn he would marry; Loki. His blue skin was stark against the golden walls of Aasgard, the lightened swirls on his skin exotic and beautiful, while a thick braid of black hair coiled down over his shoulder and stopped around his belly button. He wore a low-cut tunic with a wide neck that almost reached the tip of his shoulders, and a pair of fine leather britches; the jewelry he was draped in was mostly leather bands, carved bone pearls and rows and rows of ferocious teeth on his choker. The sneer on his face, however, told a tale of a deadly grace that was because of beauty, and not in spite of it. What was the most surprising, however, was that Loki was still incredibly tall, for a runt, and towered a good many heads above Thor – who, for the first time in his adult life, felt dwarfed.

“I am not here to fuck you.” Thor managed to choke out – this was not how he had ever dreamed his first conversation with his new spouse would go. His romanticized dreams had left him with a want for soft words, and murmured secrets, his new reality had downed the hopes to a stilted conversation of each other’s expectations; this was beyond even Thor’s imagination.

“Because Allfather-dearest told you not to?” Loki cackled hurtfully as he flipped his braid over his shoulder, his intense gaze on Thor at all times, body like a trapped animal. Thor shuddered to think that Loki might have heard Odin’s disgusting parting remark.

“Because I like my partners willing; do not presume me to be Odin.” Thor growled, regaining some of his thunder – if his new spouse wanted a fight, Thor would give him one; a romantic heart did not mean that Thor was soft in any way, and Loki had gone too far; Jord, whenever she deigned to visit her ill begotten sons, had told them, explicitly, what a rampant shit-sack Odin really was, what he had done to her, and why she would kill both Thor and Melli in their sleep if they turned out anything like their father, and both of them had taken it to heart.

“Hah, that’s a first” Loki crowed, “An Aasgardian that likes them willing – are you sick, Thor Odinsson? Is that why you were selected to marry me?” Loki teased, stepping on Thor’s nerves with heavy feet, and even heavier accusations.

“I am an unfavored, ugly bastard, descended from an earth goddess raped by the Allfather, and I am meant to insult Jotunnheimen in this sham of a marriage.” Thor answered honestly, with a harder edge to his voice than usual. “And to be honest, and to be dead honest, Loki Laufeyson, you’re whining, and accusing is doing you no favors – did you honestly think I went into this willingly? That I   tossed my career as a warrior, and the respect of my men, and my friends, under the waterfall so willingly? I am forced into this disgusting act, I am forced into marry you when we are both unwilling, and we will be bound, by law, to consummate or die by the hands of our fathers, which means rape – my father is forcing me to inflict myself upon someone unwilling, Loki Laufeyson – do not presume to tell me you are the only one loosing things!” By the end of his tirade Thor was roaring and the sky outside was rumbling ominously as the sky darkened unnaturally. Loki looked at Thor with a different expression on his face, it sat odd and ill-fitting, as if he had never worn it before in his life.  

“You’re honestly not like Odin at all, are you?” Loki still wore that strange expression, and his body relaxed slightly, yet Thor was still prepared for an attack – Loki might be smaller and thinner than his family, but he was still almost four feet taller than Thor, and wider by a half, even without Thor’s muscle bulk, and would probably be a most difficult opponent if angered.

“No, I do not want to be.” Thor answered, still focusing all his attention on Loki in case he stuck his foot in his mouth and offended Loki into an attack.

“I do not want to be my father either.” Loki admitted warily. The two of them looked each other up and down, re-assessing each other. Thor had never been praised for his intellect, nor his verbal skill, which didn’t mean it wasn’t there, it just meant that Aasgard collectively had been blind to Thor’s qualities beyond being able to summon the weather and kill people.

“Where are your parents anyway?” Thor asked – just because he wasn’t as dumb as Aasgard supposed he was, didn’t mean he didn’t face plant conversationally sometimes. Loki drew back and scowled before folding his arms defensively.

“They delivered me and left, my mother refused to watch me get married to one of you despite agreeing to the match, and my father doesn’t care beyond getting me out of his house.” Loki answered the question, but he refused to meet Thor’s eyes as he did.

“Where is your…” Loki asked, but he trailed off as he remembered the comment Thor had provided about his conception. Thor gave him a look that he hoped conveyed, intently, how incredibly stupid that question was – Jord could barely stand to visit once every ten years to check in on Thor and Melli when they were children, because that would mean facing Odin, and watching her unwanted son get married probably didn’t rank very high on her personal tasks.

“What about the Allmother?” Loki tried next and was deeply surprised as Thor burst out into a full belly laugh, though it sounded more desperate than happy.

“She would rather see me dead than in Aasgard – her husband forced my mother and I am living proof that Frigga’s myth-spun cunt is not enough for the Allfather to slake his undying thirst.” Thor spit out, conversationally, “In fact, the only reason why the Allfather didn’t try to tumble you as well was because Frigga is already angry at him and your cunt, apparently, isn’t worth the peace of this house.” Thor tossed in conversationally, “He loves bragging about how fucking two-sexed Jotunns are good for the soul to his Einherjar as well.” After Loki’s initial outburst when Thor entered, the thundergod almost felt vindicated when he saw the pale, fragile, disgusted look that settled across Loki’s stunning blue features – one would think that the Jotunn blue would hide a lot of emotions, but when a matte cobalt almost turned cerulean around the cheek areas in seconds, it was clear that Loki’s blood had vacated his facial area post haste.

“He said that?” Loki whispered, the shock had thinned his strong voice to that of an ailing kitten, and he honestly looked like he was about to faint.

“He did, on my honor. He even takes the Allmother without her consent, you can hear the shrieks in the courtyard sometimes – she accepts it because she is allowed to remain Allmother, yet it doesn’t make her any more willing. Personally, I am glad he has no daughters.” Thor confided. He hated himself for not stepping in and doing something for her; but he also hated Frigga for not stepping in and doing something for him, so his self-loathing somewhat balanced out the hatred he harbored for Frigga. He still remember being dumped at the barracks doors alongside his twin when he was ten, with a bare minimum of worldly possessions and clothing without so much as a by your leave from Gna, Frigga’s personal messenger. The heartbreak that followed when Jord showed up, as he and Melli was finally living outside the castle, introduced herself as their long-lost mother, and did nothing but warn them of what a beast Odin was before leaving again was another thing Thor was unlikely to forget.

“The ceremony is ready,” a servant called from the antechamber door, startling the both of them out of the conversation. It was time.


	3. The road to nowhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki travel to their new living arragements, and have enlightening and illogical conversations with their driver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO apparently Haldor is now an OC that snuck in undetected, my wards are shit apparently, so you know, there's that. Either way, I felt like putting in a little of the societal homophobia that is rampant in Aasgard centric fiction. I am probably going to do something about this, eventually. Also; did you notice that Loki agrees with everyone that has a good head on their shoulders? Yeah, because Loki wasn't raised in a shit-hole patriarchal society that values one gender over the other and values one sexuality over another... ok, being of two sexes does solve the first one without even trying, but yeah... people asking gay men "Who's the woman" or lesbians "Who's the man" have totally lost the plot. Stop being so damn heteronormatiiiiveeeeeeeeeeeee. Seriously, the cishets need to take a chill pill and let other genders and sexualities have a turn at the societal shaping, and don't worry, y'all will still be able to be cishets that do cishet things without being you know, hunted, beaten, having laws made against you, or scorned... yanno, the shit that everyone that's not cishet face every day, but you know, whatever (also, for a little bit of intersectionality: non-white non-chishet's: y'all have my deepest respect for actually surviving at all, y'all got in on SEVERAL fronts man, it ain't right). OK ranting over, let's just enjoy the fiction, k?

Thor wished he could say that his wedding day was such a happy and exciting occasion that it passed by in a blur – instead it felt like he was being drowned with molasses and licked by barbed tongues. Odin had dragged Loki and himself to the front of the throne room, where the only witnesses to the absolute destruction of their lives were a few commoners there for the food, Balder, who had, ever so graciously, offered to sign for Thor - Thor wanted to turn him inside out by his asshole, so he could eat his own shit because of it. Helblindi, Loki’s brother, who was a good fifteen feet taller than Loki again, and a much darker shade of blue, disappeared before the ink had dried on the wedding certificate where he had scrawled his name so fast that one might assume Helblindi thought forced-marriage was contagious if you stayed around it for too long.

“Don’t judge my brother.” Loki whispered in Thor’s ear, it might not have been audible, but it was instantly visible, as Loki had to bend down to reach a whispering distance. “We have loved each other and protected each other from father’s wrath since I can remember – he almost got himself killed protesting this marriage.” Thor’s heart softened for Helblindi’s plight – if this was Melli, Vidar or Vali, Thor would have raised a Thorsreie all by himself, yet he knew that if it were anyone of Frigga’s horrible boys he would probably have done as Balder did to him – signed them to their fate with glee. “Mother agreed with the marriage, despite its flaws, as she honestly believes in peace – I think my father is hoping we’ll kill each other and spark another outright war.”

“Oh, good, you’re talking.” Odin drawled as he finished putting up the marriage certificate in the royal records – that was the proof for the records, yet the physical proof were the magical tattoos the Norns had inscribed around Thor and Loki’s left wrists – a runic sequence wishing them a happy and long marriage filled with love and laughter. The Norns were mocking creatures who loved pulling the strings of fate faster than Frigga could discern them sometimes. “As expected, people didn’t show up for this shit-show, I suggest retiring to the small hall I’ve set aside for the two of you – it’s furnished, and your meager belongings have been brought there. The feast will be donated to the poor in your name – it’s your wedding gift from me to you.” Odin said, Loki almost looked affronted, but Thor had expected something like this; it was par the course. “Please don’t return to Aasgard city unless sent for, the Allmother is furious Thor was married off before any of our sons, despite there being no dowry or any worth in any of you. There is a carriage waiting.” Odin listed off his demands and his insults as if it were completely normal, and if you asked Thor; it was. The allfather sent the two of them outside with more shoulder pats that made both their skins crawl.

The carriage was indeed waiting, and the newlyweds had no options but to get on, as the second they stepped out of the halls of Aasgard castle, the guards crossed their spears behind them. Thor looked at Loki and Loki looked back at Thor.

“So, this is the absolute grace and wisdom of the allfather – I have felt more welcome from bilgesnipes in a mating frenzy.” Loki bent down and whispered in Thor’s ears, which Thor was somewhat grateful for, as the words would be a great source of contention if they had been overheard. Thor nodded his agreement and gestured to the carriage and driver that awaited the two. The thundergod was actually surprised when he saw a decent open carriage with two plush benches facing each-other, and two beautiful horses and a well-dressed driver at the bottom of the stairs. With the amount of insults Odin had heaped upon this marital abomination Thor had expected something enflaming like a filled straw cart with rude signs upon it – but then again, Odin’s childish tantrums were often kept within the castle walls. It wouldn’t do for the commoners to discover how little regard Odin had for anyone but himself.

The newlyweds made their way down to the carriage and settled into it without speaking, Thor made a show of going in first and offering his hand to Loki, it wasn’t taken – the carriage driver seemed to have been instructed to take the back way out of the castle, which surprised Thor little. His own renown as a son of Odin, and as Thor, a person, had not come from the royal family as such, but more his own personable attitude towards the few who saw beyond the public opinion, and both Frigga and her brood would have liked Thor Thunder-bastard to fall completely from memory. The trip to whatever hall Odin had deigned to house his disgraced son and his immorally wedded husband in was made in silence – Thor tried to memorize the way as an act of keeping busy. Loki looked around with bored interest and took in the landscape of his new home, and mentally noted down a few ingredients he saw on the way to the hall.

Thor eventually fell asleep, his head bouncing along with the bumps in the road – he recognized where they were going; Trudheim – and that meant only one thing – Bilskirnir. The great hall of Bilskirnir had once housed a gorgeous five hundred and forty rooms, a grand residence for all and sundry, now it was dilapidated, and had been partly wrecked during the first skirmishes between Jotunnheimen and Aasgard, as the giants had found their ways into the realm, even unseen by Heimdall. As Odin had taken the casket, he had also taken the power to blind Heimdall to their movements; the war did not end after that, it just turned cold as resentment festered in Jotunnheimen while they feasted in Aasgard.

Thor slept uneasily as it was emotional exhaustion that had dragged him under, and not a physical demand for rest; as such he was easily started out of his slumber when Loki tapped at his shin with his toes.

“Wake up, thunderer. I will not be left to this madness by myself; you will be awake to accompany me” Loki snarled as he sat with his limbs crossed in a petulant pose. Thor groggily blinked and noted that the sun had moved enough to where he had probably had little more than an hour of sleep.

“Talk to the driver.” Thor grumbled as he made a move to settle back down again – sleeping seemed like an excellent avoidance technique and he would feel refreshed when he woke. What Thor hadn’t counted on, was Loki nailing him right under his left kneecap with his heavy boot.

“I will not, _husband_.” Loki sneered as Thor grunted in pain. Whether the pain was just physical, or a pain of the heart was debatable, as Thor had still managed to catch Loki’s words, and the derisive spin he put on the title ‘husband’ was a painful reminder that woke the Aasgardian up with a more ruthless efficiency than the kick itself.

“I am tired, _husband_ ” Thor growled, because he could definitely play that game, even if it wasn’t his primary strength. “I, just like you, have gone through an ordeal, and I am not best pleased, neither are you – thus, we are less enemies to each other than we are to the people that put us in this situation.” Loki seemed to flinch, before a thoughtful look settled across his face. His limbs uncrossed, and his posture became more open. “Now, Loki, as you may have heard, my forte is not stealth, trickery, or anything subtle, thought I have been known to manage on occasion – my strength is charging at problems head on, which will not work here. Do you have any suggestions, or can I go back to sleep?” Thor laid it out as he saw it – plain and simple. He understood that Loki was furious, it wasn’t every day one’s life was upended by spiteful fathers and put on a collision course with someone else on the same path – yet it would be easier to help each other instead of hindering each other.

“You keep surprising me.” Loki answered, vaguely, as he gently braced himself when the cart jumped when it hit a bump. “I had resigned myself to a witless brute of a husband, with the grotesque ideals of the Allfather imprinted upon his soul, yet I get you, and I am flummoxed.” It wasn’t an apology, Thor noted, but with the tension between the two of them lessened marginally and that was enough – for now.

“I’m grateful you’ve offered me a glance beyond the obvious then.” Thor countered, torn between being pleased he was being seen for more than a muscled, brain-numb Odin-worshipper, and mulish because Loki hadn't apologized. He tamped the latter feeling down.

“So, how do you suggest we get back at them without being killed for treason?” Thor asked his husband, even referring to Loki as such in his mind felt odd, yet he knew that two heads were better than one, and in this there was no chance of Thor alone being able to make all the decisions for the two of them; his freshly minted spouse was certainly an opinionated one.

“I have no need to anger either the Allfather or my own father – their power over our lives is still indisputable. Neither of us have enough clout anywhere to do anything drastic.” Loki mused out loud. He looked across Thor’s shoulder at the carriage driver who kept glancing back at his two charges with uncertain eyes.

“What do you feel, driver?” Loki raised his voice, and the poor man steering the cart flinched and hunched down in a futile attempt to avoid both notice and Loki’s barbed words – it proved deeply ineffective. Thor turned around and took a proper look at the driver for the first time.

“Haldor, is that you?” Thor asked incredulously, the carriage driver hunched down and seemed to want to disappear through the driver’s seat and sink into the road like puddle before the sun. Thor instantly felt bad for not noticing his old friend, being so caught up in his own dilemma.   

“Do you know him?” Loki queried as he watched his newly minted husband look at the driver who seemed more occupied with becoming one with the carriage than driving it forward.

“We were in the same warrior band for a while – I have no idea why Odin put a warrior to be our carriage driver.” Thor commented pointedly, more at the newly identified Haldor than Loki.

“Do tell.” Loki focused on the driver who called the carriage to a halt before putting a hand to his brow and sighing.

“I’m disgraced, Thor.” Haldor admitted, and when Thor took a closer look, he saw what he now recognized as weariness pulling at Haldor’s skin. “I thought you knew.” He looked searchingly at the thunder-god. That explained a lot; the carriage was beautiful, yet Odin couldn’t resist one last jab, apparently both at Thor and Loki’s expense, as well as Haldor’s.

“How?” the Haldor Thor had known when they fought together was an absolute champion, an expert of several weapons, and absolutely lethal unless you were a thundergod of Odinnsblot.   

“They found out about Ragnar.” He looked absolutely miserable as he spoke, and Thor finally realized – someone must have notified the courts about Haldor and his lover, which was grounds for instant dismissal from the warrior ranks as love between two men was seen as nothing but sacrilege. Thor had barely escaped that scorn by marrying a Jotnar, which had “enough female” in them for the finicky tempers of Aasgard to let it slide under the rules. The entire warrior band had known, at least when Thor was a part of it, and no-one had seemed to have any problems with it.

“Who was it?” Thor questioned, filled with rage on his friend’s behalf – most warriors knew to find comfort wherever they needed, as the horrors of battle sometimes refused to stay on the battlefield. The entire band had shielded both Ragnar and Haldor from peer-scorn, as they saw how happy and stable it made the two.

“Your replacement.” Haldor growled. Thor had been taken out of the band by Odin himself, for no reason at all, or so Thor had thought at the time. It might have been preservation of the name of Odin as he could claim Thor, his seldomly recognized blood, could claim ignorance of the ærgi activities within the band.  

“Trond Torason?” Thor asked, for confirmation, as he wasn’t quite clear on the name of his replacement – his anger at his own displacement had assured that his memories of those weeks were blurred.

“Exactly.” Haldor kept up his growl. “That spineless, rotten bilgesnipe.” Thor, who occupied the bench closest to Haldor, put a hand on Haldor’s shoulder.

“None of the others, myself included, would ever wish the two of you harm.” Thor said with finality.

“Wait, what?” Loki interrupted which made the two warriors pay attention to him. “So you Aasgardians are split into two sexes, which is illogical enough on it’s own, but you segregate the child-bearers from the sires and expect different things from them and make it taboo for a sire to do as a child-bearer and vice-versa, and now you tell me that sires cannot love sires and by that extension that child-bearers cannot love child-bearers. What sort of hair-brained society is this? How do your species even function? You put so many ludicrous rules in place to the detriment of everyone.” Loki had worked himself up into a rant – which was quite possibly a culmination of having been thrust into a new – and quite frankly idiotic – society, being boiling hot because of course Aasgard temperatures didn’t cater well to giants and being stuck on a back road while his new husband was commiserating with their driver.

“On Jotunheimr we do things differently, and after hearing this nonsense, I believe it’s a better way. Of course, any one has the ability to sire or bear a child there, but we can decide which we want, and if two sires decide they want a child, they just involve a bearer willing to carry it! This entire talk of bloodlines is mostly reserved for the spawn of the influential, myself included, thank you very much, and it mostly pertains to the sire, beyond that there is only a requirement of height and physical strength of the offspring, which does not include myself.” Loki continued his rant, which ended on a personally bitter note.

“So, we are all covered in cow dung.” Haldor sighed as he scratched his beard. He had of course heard of Thor’s unfortunate relationship to his father, though the rumors were quiet and unobtrusive, and Thor himself had barely confirmed any of it while they were in the warband – most people hallowed the ground Odin walked on, and thinking that the powerful thundergod disliked the Allfather was almost sacrilege, but he also knew that Loki didn’t look like any Jotnar Haldor had ever seen, and coupled with the comment about his size and strength, Haldor surmised that he was looking at a fabled Jotunn runt.

“Accurate.” Loki agreed. He seemed to have calmed down a bit, but his shoulders still carried a line of tension, and his brow was knotted.

“What happened to Ragnar?” Thor asked, putting the conversation back on the previous track. The thundergod felt he needed to know – after all, Ragnar the Bold had been a great friend as well.

“His family exiled him, we refused to tell anyone who had taken the position of woman in our relations, and as such we were both punished. He roams the mountains to the west of here, a hunter in the wilds.” Haldor explained, mournfully. Loki studied the man and it felt odd to watch an Aasgardian, which were the tales of nightmares for young Jotnar, seem so small and fragile despite being almost a doors-width across the shoulders.

“I thought you would have followed him.” Thor said, with a faint air of disapproval – after all, Ragnar and Haldor had sworn to each-other that nothing would come between them, and Thor had witnessed.

“I had plans to do so, but the Allfather put me here,” Haldor replied with the same note, “With the promise that after this was completed, I could do whatever I wished as long as I stayed away from the cities and towns of Aasgard.” Thor looked properly chastised and gave Haldor a sympathetic look.

“Isn’t Ragnar a sire?” Loki interrupted with a question when Haldor’s words had sunk in. If Ragnar was a child-bearer, or woman as they were called here, he would have to re-set the entire parameter he had built around this conversation, and it would also make the rest of it very confusing.

“He’s a man, yes.” Haldor said, he looked at Loki strangely.

“Then how can any of you be a woman?” Loki cocked his head – the Aasgardians were split in two sexes, he hadn’t heard of any of them suddenly switching those sexes while in congress. Both Thor and Haldor blushed scarlet at the question and seemed to try and stutter forth a response in unison before they looked at each-other and quieted.

“He’s your husband.” Haldor said, finally, and used it as an elegant excuse to shift the burden of explanation onto Thor.

“It’s your problem.” Thor countered with age-old practice – this was how they had bantered when they fought together.

“It will be my rage if neither of you drag your heads out of your asses and explain.” Loki hissed as he crossed his arm and tapped a foot on the carriage floor. Thor shifted uneasily and thought it through, for once, before he opened his mouth.

“Ah… when two men lie together, they can do a variety of acts that feel pleasurable.” The thundergod started out with, Loki still looked at him like he was a moron, but he felt a need to built up momentum, this wasn’t the sort of conversation he’d imagined for today. “One of them involves one partner penetrating the other, and since Aasgardian men have no cunt, it means, well…” Thor trailed off with a wave of his hand and hoped to Norns he didn’t sound like a blushing virgin – he was more about doing than explaining to be honest.

“So basically, you and your Ragnar have buggered each-other and buggery makes you a woman.” Loki summarized with a huff. “I am beginning to believe that marrying outside Jotunheimr was always the plan for a runt such as myself, but now I do believe Father specifically selected Aasgard for two reasons; to spite Odin, and to aggravate my sense of logic.” Loki muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “How, exactly, does buggery change one’s gender?”

“It doesn’t.” Haldor said, decisively. Loki heard this and buried his head in his hands with a desperate noise. “It’s supposed to be an insult.” Haldor explained as he watched the Jotnar struggle.

“How is being a bearer an insult?” Loki looked back up at the two men. “I will be a bearer for whatever spawn comes from Thor and I, and there is no shame in that.” Loki had always fashioned himself a bearer, the thought itself wasn’t hard to swallow, and Thor had proven to be more than a brute with a hammer, so the idea wasn’t as unappealing as it had seemed before they met.

“Well, it is insulting for a man to be called a woman, and vice versa.” Thor explained. “At least it is here, in this realm.”  Loki made a raw noise in the back of his throat.

“I refuse to listen to any more of this nonsense today, it has been a long one and all I want to do is get to wherever we are going and sleep. Please drive the carriage, Haldor, and keep quiet – Aasgard is confusing enough and I need peace to sort my thoughts around this idiocy.” Thor smiled – he was going to enjoy having a spouse that had no issue telling it straight, yet he also felt that with Loki’s temper, he might also come to regret it. Haldor snorted bemusedly and set the horses to trotting again.


	4. Loki's perspective I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki arrives in Aasgard and both he and Helblindi are miserable.

Loki’s first meeting with Aasgard was sola, the sun. Not Sol, the goddess that harnessed the burning light, but the actual creation she maintained and managed – and it felt like a thousand unwelcome, hard-handed touches all at once. His blue skin seemed to want to shrink into his flesh and escape the rays the within minutes of stepping off the Bifrost while the rest of him was determined to keep his epidermis situated right where it was supposed to be. Loki had been warned about the Aasgardian weather and what it would feel like without the protection of the casket. What neither Odin nor any of his parents knew was that Loki had advanced his seiðr, rapidly, after the wedding announcement, focused on his own survival; amongst that, was surviving the hot, useless fire-ball in the sky that the damn Aasgardians depended on to live. A brief whisper and a flicker of a pinky suddenly pulled Loki down from melting giant to somewhat uncomfortable and cranky giant. Loki realized that throughout the day his mood would probably deteriorate into what could be construed as a frostlings temper tantrum, but he felt somewhat justified.

Heimdall, the gatekeeper, was the one who had transported the two brothers from the glacial palace of Jotunheimr to a carefully selected location outside the capitol of Aasgard, where they were to await a platoon of guards who would escort them into the city.

“How are you faring?” Helblindi growled in their native tongue – it was a platitude at best in several different ways. The first came in the form of their language; Odin, known as the mightiest bastard across all realms had subverted all the languages with his detested all speak. The second was the question itself; Helblindi knew exactly how Loki was faring – he was missing Jotunheimr and angry that their father had denied Byleistr, his other brother, the chance to say goodbye by sending him on a goose chase to the edges of their realm under the threat of death. 

“Like traded chattel.” Loki answered honestly. He loved Helblindi as only the best of brothers could, but sometimes his sibling needed reality-checks to keep him from putting his foot in an ice-crack. Helblindi made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat as he glanced up at the ostentatious fireball in the sky as quiet settled between them.

“I will miss you brother.” Loki said, finally, as they saw the entourage sent to greet them, the noise Helblindi made in response was one of mourning; it was quite possible they would never see each other again after today. If Thor were the kind to chain up his spouse and deny them, or Odin, in his frivolity, had set special rules, or if Helblindi died on a raid, or Loki died in an “unfortunate accident”, there were so many probabilities that could ensure that the brothers would be finally separated from this moment on. “Please give Byleistr my love.” Helblindi quaked as he listened to Loki’s request, and kept staring at the infernal ball of heat in the sky while he wished he was strong enough to chuck both his father and Odin into it with vigor.

“Laufeysons.” A warrior of the entourage greeted them, his tone hollow. The small Aasgardians still managed to look menacing despite their size, dressed in their armors and furs, with weapons strapped on everywhere.

“Is it customary to greet spouses in armor?” Loki asked, as he had read nothing of the sort in the few books from the Jotnar royal library that mentioned the culture of Aasgard.

“It is the custom for Jotnar alone.” The warrior answered with a jagged grin. Loki wanted to sigh and give a little lip, but with how his brother tensed at the comment, he realized that this was not the time for his infamous snark. He settled for a non-committal noise. None of the warriors had come forth and identified themselves, which ruled his future husband out, and he could recognize Odin on sight because of the warning posters that circulated everywhere Odin’s eyes couldn’t reach on a regular basis. 

“We walk.” The head warrior commanded, and the party split up and formed a box around Helblindi and Loki, who felt deeply uncomfortable with being this close to an Aasgardian without ripping their heads off and using their fingerbones for toothpicks. Well, Helblindi, mostly, Loki, due to his stature, had mostly used ice magic to spear, freeze, trip, or trounce his enemies, which was not as highly regarded, but just as effective – if not more.

The trek to Aasgard city was long, awkward, hot, and Loki had ample time to imagine the slow torture of each and every one of the short, hairy guards in his mind. It was a party trick Loki had learned to keep smiling when simpering nobles awkwardly tried to suck up to him while avoiding his obvious runt stature and hoping that any connection at all to the royal family would do them well; usually Loki was the last resort, and he hated knowing that.

When they finally arrived at the city, it seemed the street leading straight to the castle had been cleared, there were guards on each corner, and Loki could see some bustle whenever he stared down alleyways to the parallel streets. Loki assumed that it might have something to do with there being giants in the center of Aasgard – not panic inducing in the least, he was sure.

The scents of foods, spices, and local fauna was a constant assault on Loki’s senses, compared to the tranquil, cold, wild, freshness that was Jotunheimr.  It had been easier to ignore when they were outside of the city, but the closer they had come the old Jotun adage seemed more and more likely: “Leave an Aasgardian alone for a day you’ll find a house, leave them alone for a week and you have a village”. They were, Loki thought, like the ice-roaches of the nine realms – stupidly adaptable and fast breeding. It had been a major peeve of all the other realms, or so Loki had picked up in subtext; Aasgard was perfect for Aasgardians, but for some reason a vast horde of them decided that settling outside of their perfect realm – after Odin the Scourge had broken those realms beyond recognition, but that was another matter. Vanaheimr was another logical choice for Aasgardians, with its flowers, frisky folk, and flowing refreshments; apparently it was boring in the long run for a people that thirsted for war; it was a vacation spot for the rich and noble, something that rubbed the Twin-Royals the wrong way, but with Freya married off to Odin Allfather after the spectacular war between Aasgard and Vanaheimr, their discontent would remain just that – a useless muttering behind the Allfather’s back.

Muspelheimr was another foolish settling project for the insipid Aasgardians, Loki thought, as they trudged towards the castle. It was a realm of terror, horror, heat, and bilgesnipe shit, if Loki’s impressions were to be believed – he had never been so miserable as he was when he was sent to treat with the fire-giants in a useless bid against Odin. Loki still thought his father was a complete idiot for thinking that fire and ice giants could fight on the same battlefield without counteracting each-other. Svartalfheimr also had a few settlements and a few migrants from the shining shit of Aasgard – why anyone would want to deal with the Svartalfar was beyond Loki, they were an unpleasant people, hostile to outsiders and themselves out of sheer spite. After the war with Jotunheimr there had even been a few settlements on the edges of their realm, which had garnered Laufey a measure of discontent, but as crippled as Jotunheimr was, no one was willing to risk loss of life and resources in a civil war; it was that fact alone that kept the Laufey line balanced, precariously, on the throne with the Jarls of Utgaard nipping at his heels like rabid vargs.

Loki was so lost in his own thoughts that when they finally reached the grand stair-cases to the castle he was almost surprised.

“We’re here.” The head warrior grunted which was the first word from any of the small hair-balls since they had met – the entire contingency had been deathly quiet for the entire trek, probably to avoid giving away anything to the enemy.

“Thank you.” Loki demurred, fighting down the urge to complement the glacier-headed brute on stating the obvious. The Jotunn brothers were urged to scale the steps, where a contingency of shiny-looking castle warriors awaited; they looked like bearded tin-cans with inferiority complexes.

“Come with us.” The leader said, or so Loki assumed, as he was the shiniest tin-can with the most kerfuffle going on around his helmet. Helblindi and Loki followed them dutifully, absolutely sick and tired of the monotone commands that had been the modus communicandi for the day. Helblindi could barely get through the taller archways without ducking his head, but the smaller they got, the further he had to bend down – in the olden days he would have smashed through the walls and pissed on the floor out of spite, yet he was here on a diplomatic mission of sorts, and refrained, despite the urge to grab Loki like a frostling and skate away like the wind (Laufey keeping Byleistr at home and within easy hurting distance had nothing to do with it, he told himself). Loki tried to pay attention to the grand architecture of the castle, but they were bustled along to what seemed like the throne room, judging by the grandiose, golden, diamond encrusted seat at the end of it – not to mention the swathes of expensive drapery everywhere. Loki would hold his peace as he liked staying alive, yet he kept seeing more and more similarities between Laufey and Odin – both of them were unmitigated megalomaniac bastards who thought a display of wealth somehow constituted a decent personality.

Instead of approaching the throne, and without Odin anywhere in sight, the two brothers were shoved into a side-room where Helblindi almost had to squat and frog hop to get in. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, it would have had Loki in absolute stitches. His large brother settled down into a cross-legged pose on the floor, his back resting against a wall. Loki found a large plush seat and curled up – at least the Aasgardians were bastards of comfort he sneered internally.

“So, here we are.” Loki said, airily, as he inspected the claws of his hand.

“We are.” Helblindi said, mournfully. Out of the three brothers, he was the one that most often had his emotions pinned to his chest.

“I hate it as much as you do, but there is not much we can do, not without Byleistr with us.” Loki tried to comfort Helblindi, who had wailed at the thought of leaving his beloved brother with the grubby Aasgardians and barely managed to dry his tears before Heimdall had showed up. Helblindi was the largest of the three Laufeyspawn, yet he was easily the softest of heart. The amount of bilgesnipe pups Loki had to smuggle out of the castle when Helblindi was smaller was absolutely atrocious, because those poor, squawking fuzzballs eventually turned into huge slobbering creatures that thought Jotnar tasted good, with or without condiments.

“I know.” Helblindi wavered as he spoke. He reached a large hand over, of which Loki clasped a finger. They were here now, and there was no way but forward. They sat there in a silence that was as comfortable as the situation allowed, Loki still holding on to Helblindi’s finger as the two of them breathed. Helblindi had wasted his words on Laufey, then Farbauti, and then finally on the glaciers of Jotunheimr when he met nothing but frost from his parents, and Loki, who had never had words of import assigned to him at all, had kept his silver-tongue to himself; his father had made sure it wasn’t something he could lie-smith his way out of by way of holding Byleistr hostage. The castle-wide row that ensued between Byleistr and Laufey when the younger found out his father was keeping him from Loki’s wedding would probably go down in legend when the repairs were finished.


End file.
